YOURS TRULY, JENS LEKMAN: A postcard to Manila, with love

 I meant to take notes at the Jens Lekman show. I really did.

Here’s how I cover gigs: I have a small notebook on me at all times, and as each song is performed, I jot down its title, in order, accompanied by a quick note that might be insightful or amusing but is more often than not just illegible. I sort it all out later, deciphering my own scratches and recalling the circumstances in my head as I piece together my account of the night.

All that went out the window last March 30, at SaGuijo Cafe and Bar, when Swedish indie-pop phenomenon Jens Lekman — backed by partially-Filipino percussionist Raquel and Erlend Oye, one-half of the Kings of Convenience — played for a packed, sweaty, and almost hysterically enthusiastic crowd.

This was the first night of a two-part treat for local indie-pop enthusiasts. Jens Lekman would perform at SaGuijo on a Tuesday, and then on Wednesday, March 31, he would open for the Kings of Convenience at a bigger venue, the NBC Tent.

Local brother-sister duo Outerhope — also known as Mike and Mick Benedicto — opened for him Tuesday night at SaGuijo, charming the crowd with their impeccably crafted tunes and words, weaving harmonies and song-stories. Their original material proved to stand up strong alongside the covers they did, of Simon & Garfunkel and Hot Chip (Alley Cats). Lekman and Oye walked in during Lost in Numbers, one of Mike and Mick’s best songs, and nodded their appreciation.

“No pressure,” Mike quipped.

 (After the gig, Erlend Oye would take them aside, express his admiration for what he had heard, and they would play their songs for each other and then end up doing an impromptu acoustic concert in the parking lot. Yes, it was as amazing as it sounds.)

Not long after Outerhope’s set, Jens Lekman began. And that’s where things get kind of hard to recall with any sort of objective clarity.

I know he played all my favorites from his latest album, “Night Falls Over Kortedala.” Sipping on the Sweet Nectar had us shouting along with the chorus. Your Arms Around Me was almost painfully sweet. The Opposite of Hallelujah had everyone dancing deliriously. And despite his stripped-down setup, he even played A Postcard to Nina, quite possibly the best song on the album, filling it out with a spoken-word anecdote in the middle. He also played older favorites, from earlier albums and EPs, like Black Cab, Maple Leaves and the super-poppy You Are The Light.

At the end, I felt like I had lost 10 sounds through sheer sweating, and my throat was raw from screaming like a deranged cheerleader.

We had gotten to meet Lekman the first day of his stay here, and he talked to us about his collaboration with Everything but the Girl’s Tracey Thorn (they recorded two songs for her new album), his favorite songs to play during gigs (“Black Cab,” definitely), and his songwriting process (“I like the title to be there [first] just to know what the song is going to be about”). Fellow writer Aldus Santos asked about his best friend Lisa, to whom he had dedicated his last album. “Night Falls...” was released on the same day that Lisa gave birth to a child, apparently, so “I dedicated my album to her, and she dedicated her baby to me.” (That seems fair, Aldus had murmured.)

Someone else asked for his impression of Manila so far. Since he had come straight from the airport, with no stops or sightseeing along the way, he said, “Well... this hotel’s air-conditioning is quite nice.”

Three days after the SaGuijo show, on Good Friday, I met up with him again. This time, I felt that asking about his impressions of the place would not be amiss. “I think it was Erlend who said it: there’s something about the city planning, the way the buildings are situated,” Jens Lekman said. “It’s inviting... you can just walk out on the street, hang out.” And then he went on to talk about the performances, and audiences. “Both me and Erlend just loved this place. Really, honestly loved it.”

Jens is even writing a song about Manila. “I wrote this song in my dreams,” he said. “The word ‘Manila’ has such a phonetic softness to it: ‘Manila.’ It’s soft, but still rhythmical...” He then proceeded to hum-sing snatches of his new tune. “Which went something like, it just keeps repeating, ‘I did this...’ I did this in Manila. In Manila, in Manila, in Manila...”

It is an alluring tune, with an appropriately island feel.

“And you just make it up as you go. It just keeps going, like this eternal song.”

* * *

Thanks to Intercept! and Kindassault. Thanks also to Hotel Celeste, Universal Records and UNO Magazine. Jens Lekman photo by Gabby Cantero. (See more of her work at www.theseportraits.com.)